Strange and ironic to receive relationship advice from such a source, the bleeding heart of the boy from San Francisco who interviewed drug users and hookers in order to tell their stories still somehow beating in this old man. You can't be someone's everything. Armand almost allows himself a wry, sad smile, a tiny private curl of his mouth more real than the previous.

"Have you lived a full life, Daniel?" Back on solid ground, now. Armand runs his hands through his wet hair, well aware of the impact of the movement on his pectorals, the flex of his rib cage. "Married twice. Daughters who won't take your calls. Drugs in your past now turned into domestic life, the drone of your neighbor mowing his lawn on a Sunday morning while you lie in bed and contemplate whether it's worth the pain in your back to get up and go to the bathroom."

He raises his eyebrows, as if to ask whether Daniel wants to continue this line of discussion.

"Aside from a relocation, what's changed?"